


Ask Me Twice

by Liralen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Christmas, DECFANFIC, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-27 23:57:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2711423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liralen/pseuds/Liralen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis tries to give Zayn a romantic Christmas Eve anniversary. It all goes a bit crap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ask Me Twice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elliebird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliebird/gifts).



Zayn throws the door open blindly, shouting a question at Harry over his shoulder. He's laughing at his response as he turns ("don't worry, I'm staying the night at Niall's, just try not to get us in trouble with the downstairs neighbors again please") so it's a moment before he takes in Louis's appearance. He feels his eyes widen, surprise like a double take without ever looking away.  
  
"Are you – is that a tie?"  
  
"I've worn ties before," Louis says, sounding half amused, half slightly insulted. "I've worn loads of ties."  
  
"Yeah, but, like, usually when someone's died," Zayn says, earning himself an indignant 'oi!' and a sharp pinch to the nipple. His jumper is silky and fairly thin and it hurts quite a bit, but then Louis nips at his jaw and calls him a scruffy-looking nerf herder, so it's worth it.  
  
"Let's get a move on, Malik, they'll only hold the reservation for so long and you've already burned 20 minutes on the mirror."  
  
It's Zayn's turn to play at being offended, even as his eyebrows climb in surprise. "Reservation? I didn't know Nando's started taking those."  
  
Louis's expression is everything he could have hoped for - indignant, delighted, exasperated, every emotion expressed so clearly across his face. Fuck, he's lovely, even when he's pulling his goofiest faces, or baring his teeth, like now, trying to look menacing. Zayn loves his sharp little teeth. He loves every bit of his face, he's so stupid for him, and he knows it probably shows just as easily on his own face, but he doesn't care. It's their anniversary: he's allowed to be a little soppy.  
  
"Knob," Louis calls him, flicking him in the ribs and then tangling their hands together to swing between them as they walk. "It's not that fancy, it's just that, aside from being both my birthday and our anniversary, it also happens to be Christmas Eve. I don't know if you've heard of it, but it seems to be a time when a lot of people like to go out and eat food. It was either make a reservation or _actually_ eat Nando's." Louis shrugs like it's nothing, like he didn't actually plan ahead for once instead of leaving everything to chance like usual, and Zayn lets him get away with it because he really does love him.  
  
They walk for awhile, talking about plans for tomorrow and remarking on Christmas decorations hung up over store shop doors and displayed in windows. It's cold but clear, a nice night for a stroll tucked into their heavy coats. Louis's cheeks and the tip of his nose are flushed with the chill, and it's so cute Zayn a little bit wants to be sick with it.  
  
"Here it is, that awning up ahead," Louis says, pointing with their interlaced hands.  
  
Zayn balks at the door to the restaurant.

  
"Le Renard?" he asks, throwing a questioning glance at a Louis from under furrowed brows. "I thought this place just served overprice crap that looked like modern art and tasted like arse."  
  
Louis sniffs, visibly unimpressed by Zayn's perfect imitation. "It probably does, but it's worth at least trying, if only to revel in being right."  
  
He tries to open the door, but Zayn pulls him back by the hand still clasped in his own. "Lou," he says, "seriously? You made fun of this place every time we passed it for the last month. You hate this kind of food."  
  
"But you like it," Louis says.  
  
It's simple and honest, and for some reason it makes emotion flash hot and panicked in Zayn's chest. "Louis," he says again, low and serious this time. "What are you doing? First your clothes – and don't think I don't know that jacket's new, I've stolen everything in your closet at least twice – then reservations at a fancy restaurant you hate? And you only made one comment about me spending too long on my hair. What's going on?"  
  
"Nothing," Louis insists, trying to pull Zayn toward the door, but Zayn isn't going. "Stop making it weird."  
  
"You started it, you've been weird all night. Is this –" Zayn hesitates, shying away from the question. "Are you breaking up with me or something?"  
  
"Yes, Zayn, that's exactly it. I've been so miserable the last year, as evidenced by how I pretty much live at your and Harry's flat, that I decided to take you out to a nice restaurant on our anniversary and break it off. How _did_ you see through my clever plan."  
  
By the end of the speech Zayn's rolling his eyes so hard they hurt. "Alright, wanker, I get it. Still want to know why you're being so weird though."  
  
"Doing nice things for my boyfriend is being weird?"  
  
"It's too nice. It's like you're trying to – oh god, you did something, didn't you? What did you do?"  
  
"Seriously, they're going to give our table away, can we please finish this conversation about how I'm too wonderful inside?"  
  
"Did you get fired? Just tell me if you got fired."  
  
"I didn't get fired. Seriously Zayn –"  
  
"Did you accidentally send a naked picture to one of our friends? Because I've told you, you shouldn't keep those on there, you've mistexted me so many times, it's just bound to happen."  
  
At this point Louis has pulled his hand out of Zayn's grasp and has both palms pressed over his eyes. "Oh my god," he says slowly.  
  
Zayn bites his lip. He knows he's stalling; knows he doesn't want to ask the question burning at the back of his throat, the one that creeps into the dark corners of his mind some nights when he can't sleep. Truth is, it isn't just tonight Louis's been acting strange. It's been says, maybe even weeks. Places he'll go and give vague details about, late-night whispering with Harry when he thinks Zayn's asleep; it haunts him. He's been hoping it'll go away, that Louis will settle back to his normal self, but right here, right now, he knows he has to ask.  
  
"Is there someone else?" he breathes. Louis stills, and Zayn would swear his heart stills, too. "Is there? I know you've been kind of jumpy ever since I brought up, like, maybe moving in together, but if there's someone else--"  
  
"For fuck's sake, Zayn, I'm not cheating on you, I'm trying to ask you to fucking marry me!"  
  
The street feels suddenly quiet, like everything's frozen for a moment so that Louis's shout can echo off the pavement like it's echoing in Zayn's mind. Marry me, marry me, marry me.  
  
Louis's laugh is small and tired, a shaking hand swiping over his face. "That's not how I meant to do it. I had it all planned out, but you had to go and be such a knob." Despite how pale he's gone, and how monumentally Zayn has bolloxed this night right up, Louis manages to say it with a tiny smile. "That's it. That's why I've been weird lately, why I've been talking to Harry so much and sneaking around. I wanted to ask you marry me, and I wanted it to be perfect." He gestures at the restaurant behind Zayn, all done up in Christmas colors and fairy lights. "I wanted to make it perfect for you."  
  
"Fuck," Zayn whispers. The world has resumed its pace around them, but he still feels frozen, brain stuck on the same terrible question. "Do you still?"  
  
"Well, I don't think there's much chance of a perfect night now –"  
  
"No," Zayn says, "do you still want to marry me?"  
  
Something in Louis's face sharpens even as his eyes go softer. He's made entirely of paradoxes, and Zayn loves that so much about him. "I want to punch you more than a little for thinking I was bloody cheating on you," he admits, "but, yeah. I do."  
  
"Ask me. Please. I promise I won't interrupt."  
  
Louis twirls his finger in a little circle. "What, right here in the street?"  
  
"Yeah, right here in the street. This is perfect."  
  
Louis pins him under a long, considering look. After a minute, he reaches out and catches both of Zayn's hands, tugging him closer, so they're toe-to-toe, close enough that their breath fogs and mingles in the air. The light from the restaurant falls on one side of Louis's face and throws long shadows, making his cheekbones look sharp as knives. He's so lovely it hurts to look at him.  
  
"Zayn Malik," he says, "you complete and utter knob, will you marry me?"  
  
It's stupid, but he can't even answer for a moment. When the air finally returns to his lungs he tries to sound calm as he says, "Yeah, I will," but it comes out raspy, and they're both about two seconds from crying.  
  
"Good," Louis says, and then clears his throat loudly. "Good. Now can we go inside and eat some overpriced modern art crap?"  
  
"Not a chance," Zayn says. Before Louis can do more than look surprised, Zayn pulls him in tight and kisses him, warm and hard. "I'm gonna take you right back home and fuck you until neither of us can walk, and then I'm gonna get a pizza delivered."  
  
"That – is also an excellent plan," Louis agrees, and gets to work finding a taxi so they can make the trip faster.

Harry's still at the flat when they stumble in, far earlier than expected, Louis's mouth on Zayn's throat and his trousers already half open. "He said yes!" Harry cheers, and then beats a hasty retreat before he's traumatized forever. Neither of them notices.  
  
Considering the start, it ends up being a pretty great Christmas.


End file.
